Part 6 (1/2)

My next ventures were of a musical nature, as I thought it might be easiest to achieve something in this direction. Lola knew the letters that are a.s.sociated with the different tones (_c_, _d_, _e_, _f_, _g_, _a_, _h_[15], _e_), having learnt these in her alphabet, so I only had to strike the keys (and I confined myself to the _white_ ones, as involving fewer difficulties), telling her their names. I began by saying: ”Lola, you are going to learn something quite new and very beautiful; you must listen to these sounds and tell me the names of each.” Then I played the notes over several times from c to c, saying clearly and slowly: ”c, d, e, f, g, a, h.” Then I paused and played them over again--both the ascending and descending scale.

[15] _h_ is the term used in Germany for the note we call _b_.

Then I struck ”c,” saying, ”What note is that?” She answered ”c.” I struck ”e,” but she rapped ”no.” I therefore played from c to e, accentuating e in particular. ”Do you know now?” I asked, and she replied, ”yes: e.” I struck ”a,” and the answer came at once, ”a.” This seemed enough for one day, for I wished to keep her interest fresh. So we then went over some arithmetic. The next day I played only _once_ from c to c, asking the names of the notes out of their order, and Lola was right in all her replies with the exception of ”h,” and this she soon identified after a comparison with the other notes. I tried whether she could recognize the number of notes in a chord. First I struck two, asking her the number; she replied ”2.” I then struck four--and she replied ”4” without any hesitation. Then I struck five together, _c_ being a.s.sociated with them twice. At this Lola rapped ”4,” so I said: ”You are to tell me _every_ note I strike,” at the same time putting down the chord again, after which she replied ”5.” This had been an experiment for which I had made few preparations and I marvelled at such obvious evidences of musical comprehension. But I felt that I should nevertheless test her more closely still, and so I told my experiences to a friend, a woman composer of great professional distinction. This lady was both interested and surprised, and seating herself at the piano, she struck some notes. I placed myself so as not to see the keyboard and tried to guess their pitch, yet I have no ”ear”

in this way. I had in 1915 attended a course of Delcroze lessons (given at Stuttgart by Fraulein Steiner) and had tried to acquire the faculty to distinguish the basic tone of any chord given at random--for this can be acquired if one is to some extent musical, yet could I but seldom succeed. I would hover in doubt between c and d, and so on, without sensing any connexion with the other tones. Here, too, with one single note being struck I was unequal to the test, but Lola's replies were excellent, yet was it again the novelty that gave zest to the affair, for later on her answers were good only when she was inclined to take trouble. But in the beginning she had been most obviously delighted with the whole matter and leapt up at me in her joy and excitement whenever I said: ”Lola, listen to sounds!” I have interested and amused many friends with this little exhibition, for it came as a surprise to many, especially as the sense of ”pitch” is a comparatively rare one in most people.

SCENT

The keenness of a dog's nose is, of course, proverbial, and I have only put a few tests to Lola in this particular, yet, such as they are (proving perhaps no more than is already known) I will here set down. I put the first of these tests to her on the 17 April, 1916. I showed her a book belonging to my father and said:

”Whose book is this?” She answered--”Father!” Then I showed her a glove and she told me it was mine. On 20 April, I showed her another glove belonging to a lady who was commonly known among us as ”Mama” and Lola instantly replied with--”Mama!” This was followed by an important test in the afternoon of the same day. Four ladies, who were strangers to her had come to my father's place at Hohenheim, and in helping them take off their wraps I did not particularly notice where the different articles of clothing were laid. Lola was in the room at the time, I introduced the ladies to her singly and by name and later on sent her to fetch one of the hats. She fetched it and then sat expectantly before me. ”To whom does this hat belong?” I asked. The answer was: ”Sibol.” I then asked Fraulein Sibold who was present if it really was her hat and she said--”yes.” Lola had remembered the name quite well but had left out the final ”d”--an omission due to the fact that I am in the habit of ”swallowing” that letter when saying the name. On 29 December, 1916, I gave Lola a biscuit and she seemed more than usually delighted with its smell--as if there was something familiar about it.

”Why ever are you so pleased?” I asked, to which she replied--”Mama!”

And it had actually been sent by the aforementioned lady familiarly known as ”Mama.” I then showed her another biscuit, saying ”Is this too from Mama?” but she answered ”no!” ”Do you dogs always know by smell?”

I said--and she rapped ”yes!” On this same day another test failed owing to the impossibility of ascertaining the true name of the article in question.

I had a new jacket trimmed with fur--a variety unknown to me, it was grey and slightly woolly. Lola could simply not tear herself away from it--the smell was so fascinating. I said to her: ”Tell me what is delighting you so to-day?” She replied--”_mederesf_.” Unable to make any sense of the letters I set them down in writing before her and asked her if any of them were wrong; to this she replied: ”yes:”

”Which?” asked I--she said: ”2.” (_the second_) ”What should it be?” I queried; she rapped ”n.” ”How many of these letters belong to the first word?” I continued. ”2.” ”And to the second?” She gave a wavering six--(though it may have been _five_). So the words purported to be ”ne deresf.” I could make nothing of it and asked her again--”What _is_ deresf?” to which she gave the explanation: ”ein tir.” (tier = animal) ”_An animal_? but I don't know the name! have you heard of it?” ”Yes!”

”Have we seen this animal?” ”Yes!” ”Where did we see it?” ”Maulburg.”[16]

”In the house?” ”No.” ”In the woods?” ”Yes!” ”Spell the name again!” ”d r e s f.” ”And what is n e?” ”dran” (a contraction of daran = on it).

”On the jacket?” ”Yes!” ”Then you want to say that 'dresf' is on the jacket?” ”Yes....” And Lola looked at me with the most imploring eyes as though I _ought to see that she was right_--as though _I ought to know it_.

[16] Maulburg, near Schopfheim, in Baden, where Lola had visited relations of mine.

”Are you _sure_ of the name?” I persisted--and she replied: ”mittel.”[17]

Here we ended--and unfortunately I have not been able to ascertain so far what this particular variety of fur is!

[17] Mittel = unbestimmt (uncertain; from Mitte = middle.)

There have been more recent tests of this nature, about which I do not as yet feel in a position to give a definite opinion. They may possibly come into line with the theories held by Professor Gustav Jaegar, M.D., of Stuttgart and, if so, would place the subject in a new perspective.

I will now only add what has so far come to my notice accidentally:

On 4 October, 1916, I said: ”Lola, do you like to smell people?” ”Yes!”

”All people?” ”No!” ”How do I smell to-day?” ”Tired.” ”Lola,” I said, ”do I sometimes smell horrid?” ”Arger Eifersucht!” ( = great, or strong jealousy) ”So you smell what I feel and when it changes?” ”Yes.” ”With every one?” ”Yes.” ”With horses too?” ”No.” ”With dogs?” ”Yes! yes!!”

On 5 October I asked: ”Lola, do I smell the same?” ”No!” ”How do I smell?” ”Angst” ( = fear, or anxiety). She evidently meant that I was uneasy on account of the amount of work.

”Lola,” I continued, ”how does Betty smell?” ”Nach Angst” ( = of anxiety) ”And anything more?” ”Auch mud” ( = also tired). [N.B. Betty had held out the palms of her hands to the dog.] ”And anything more?”

”Ja--traurig” ( = yes--sad.) And I found later that this had been the true state of Betty's feelings at the time.

Lola was bright and fresh and this encouraged me to continue:

”What does Magda smell like?” ”Afe.” ”Is that right?” ”No--a f.” ”And what more?” ”g e r e g t” ”afgeregt? Isn't one letter wrong?” ”Yes.”

”Which?” ”1” ”Then what should it be?” ”Au.” ”Then you mean aufgeregt?”